


Every House Has One

by the_nita



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, House Flipping, Oral Sex, Sassy, Sex, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nita/pseuds/the_nita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt prize to Katherinekittentaylor on Tumblr. "RPF where Jeremy Renner and OFC have sex in a haunted house." </p>
<p>I meant this to be short (~2500 words). Renner had other things in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every House Has One

The problem with being a house flipper is that you hear just about every stupid story out there. This house is special because a famous gangster lived here. Someone was shot here. It was built by a famous architect that no one has ever heard of. And on and on. 

And then there's all the ghost stories. They'd flipped, what? Twenty houses? And every single damned one had at least one person involved in the project who knew about someone who had died near or on the property some time in the last 200 years. It had gotten that Kris and Jeremy just rolled their eyes and kept going. They'd heard everything: Indians who were buried there, children who disappeared under mysterious circumstances, husbands murdered, wives who didn't want to be separated from their families, even in death. It was old hat. They were pretty sure it was also all just bullshit. Ghost stories people told to have fun and be assholes. Ignorable. 

Kris was off on an acting job, shooting a prospective pilot. Jeremy was glad for him - there was good money in TV. If the series took, then who knew what might come out of it. But that left him lying in house number 21, tucked in his sleeping bag, sawdust everywhere, resting at the end of a long fucking day. Today had been gutting the basement day and they'd found all kinds of random fucking shit down there. Pulling out the old drywall, they'd found plaster and lath behind it and then old torn books and photos and leaves behind that. Given that the house was around 100 years old, it wasn't any kind of surprise. People would insulate with the weirdest things if they needed to. The crew working with him had had a good laugh and they'd spent one of their breaks reading excepts from the book pages they found in the walls. 

Lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, pillowing it, Jeremy finds his thoughts wandering. It's a good crew this time. Mostly the guys that he and Kris had worked with over and over before but some new faces. The crew worked hard together and even had found time recently to haul everyone out, at Kris' suggestion, to a karaoke bar to get a little drunk and sing. It hadn't taken beer to get Jeremy to sing - he'd do that in a heartbeat any time - but it was good to see them out having fun and bonding. It got them past some of the bullshit about it being a job and the rumours of the place being haunted and give them something good to build on.

Reaching out, he grabs his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He needs to sleep soon, but he has time for one last hit before he crashes. The taste of the smoke in his mouth helps settle his mind from the day's efforts. 

The smoke winds around his head as he sits with his back against a stud, bracing himself when he hears footsteps. Fuck. They hadn't gotten the alarm system up, so while he quietly gets to his feet in a crouch, he digs his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and starts to thumb the digits to call 911. 

A boot appears, followed by a slender jean-clad leg. Another boot. A flare of hip and he calls out, "I'm calling the cops. You better fucking turn around and head back where you came from. I'm not fucking around."

"Don't, Jeremy. Fuck, it's just me, it's Amelia." The electrician steps all the way out from where she had been walking. She was dressed as if to work, even though it is well and truly past quitting time. "I was just coming by to see if I could get ahead of the guys. I didn't realize you were here still." She looks at him sheepishly. "Shit. I wanted to impress you by being done ahead of schedule. I thought you were out of the house. Sorry. I can go if you want."

As he hits the end key on his phone, "Goddammit, Amelia. Woman, you nearly got hauled off by the cops." Jeremy runs his hand through his hair, his heart rate starting to slow as he pushes his phone back into his jeans. "What the fuck were you thinking about, woman? Damn." His voice trails off as he gets himself back together. He wipes his hands off on his jean. He'd spent enough time working with contractors of both genders to know to treat them all like they're just people and not anything more but Amelia has a sweet ass and a small but gorgeous rack and he isn't fucking dead after all.

"Sorry, sorry. Like I said, I thought I'd surprise you," she replies, voice a mix of actual remorse at scaring the boss and vague irritation that he had interfered with her plans in the first place. "Look, Jeremy....would you mind?" She purses her lips and shoves her hands in her pockets. "I really wanted to get this done quickly and I drove all the way out here. Mind if I stick around and get it done?" Flushing slightly, she speaks rapidly, "I mean, I'll be quiet. I know you were trying to sleep." She gestures with her head to his sleeping bag. "I just...I don't want to have to drive across town, twice, for nothing. 

Her request seems sincere enough. Fuck knows he had dealt with enough women crazy enough to pull all kinds of stupid shit to get to be alone with him, but Amelia didn't feel like that kind of crazy. She really seemed to get off on what she did and the little he knew about electrical work made him think that she was really good at it. At least every time the damned inspector had been by to check on things, he'd been happy with the work she was doing.

"Okay. Yeah, if you can keep it down? I'm beat. Long day and really, I just want to take it easy." Looking at her, a wistful part of him thinks that maybe if she was tired too - cause fuck, it wasn't exactly early, and it was a long drive back across town - she'd crash there at the house. Might get the chance to get to know her better. 

Amelia nods. "Thanks, boss. I'll do my best to keep it down." Her lips purses, "You going to sleep or.." Her voice trailed off.

"Nah," he said. "Still too wound from today. But it's damned hard to relax if everything's pounding away, so thanks." 

She turned from him, heading further into the house, presumably to the basement, he thought. He settled back down, grabbing a script from a pile next to his sleeping bag to start reading. Yet another in a long list of possible projects. One of the good things about flipping houses - and having commercially successful movies - meant you could take you time and pick projects that might not make as much money, but were a lot more soul satisfying at the end of the day.

He could hear her heading down the stairs in to the basement and leaned back. Maybe trying to catch a nap might be a good idea. It was late and he was beat. Wound or not, people made dumb mistakes when they were tired and doing construction tired was asking for another damned trip to the hospital.

Pulling his t-shirt over his head, Jeremy managed to lie down and get himself comfortable to nap when the damned house lights started to flicker. What the fuck? He got up, pulling his boots back on. Dammit, Amelia was a licensed electrician. There was no way she was green enough to fucking do electrical work with the fucking wires live, was she? "Amelia? Amelia!" 

Dark hair flying from her face as she raced up the stairs, "Fuck, Jeremy! Since when is there power here? You could have fucking warned me that the power was on. I was about to start with the junction box in the rec room and the fucking lights went on. I damned near had a heart attack!" She was quivering as she stood toe to toe with him. "I checked today before I left, but I guess you got the power turned on between then and now."

Jeremy raised his hands in the air, palms to her, "Look, Amelia, I didn't do anything. I haven't hooked it up and unless Kris called in from his shoot to turn it on, we're still running off of generators." He took a deep breath and lowered his hands to his sides. "Let's just go downstairs and check on the damned main breaker box. If there's power there, then Kris or one of the other subs called it in. I didn't."

The two stood facing one another for a moment. "Okay," she said, her heart rate slowing as she breathed deeply through her nose, "I'm going to go downstairs and make sure the damned power is off."

"I'm coming," he replied matter of factly.

"No, that's fine, Jer -" He cut her off, "Look, if anyone's going to get electrocuted, I'd like there to be someone else around to call for help. Rumours of a ghost is one thing. Proof of a dead girl? Not good for resale value." 

The two set off downstairs to check on the main breaker panel. As expected, it was still off. It had only been hooked up a few days. Amelia did a cursory look to see if there were any incorrect connections but the whole thing appeared to be wired sound.

"I don't know what's wrong, Jeremy," she said. "We put this box in and there's no way unless it's turned on that there's power."

"Yeah, well. It's an old building. Sometimes the really older ones have multiple inlets for power. We probably missed one that didn't get on the city's schematics. If you're still hellbent on getting stuff done tonight, do me a favour and wear gloves, okay?" He looked at her seriously. "I wasn't kidding about the dead girl thing."

"Yes, boss," she said, rolling her eyes. "I don't want to be the dead girl, as a matter of fact." She starts up the stairs, him following her. "I've got gloves in my kit out in the truck."

Grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighter, he followed her out, keeping her company while she rummaged in her truck for her gloves. "You don't need to stay there," she said, "I'm a big girl and I did get here all by my little lonesome."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, not moving an inch. "That doesn't have anything to do with it. I didn't know you were out here before. Now I do. Between the fact that my mama raised me right and that as your employer I don't need you being attacked on the job site by ghosts OR assholes, I'm gonna stay right here while you're outside, got it?" He lit up a cigarette while she grabbed her gloves and slid a few additional tools in her belt.

Amelia rolled her eyes but she appreciated that he was being conscientious. It was part of what she enjoyed about this job. Her boss actually gave a shit about his employees safety. Even though they were contract subs. Even though after this house was done, there was a chance he'd never see them again. He gave a damn. 

As they headed back into the house, he ground out the partially smoked cigarette, and started for his room. "G'night. I think I'm going to crash now."

"Good night, Jeremy. I'll try to keep the noise down," she replied.

"Don't worry too much," he chuckled. "I can sleep through just about anything."

The two split up and Jeremy kicks off his boots as he returns to his room. Socks off and his hand hovers at his jeans. Normally he'd just sleep in his boxers, but with Amelia there, he'd rather not have to answer any embarrassing questions if he had to get out quickly. Better to sleep in the jeans than have the headlines splashed with grainy assed photos of the two of them leaving the house because of a stupid fire or something.

He crawled back into the sleeping bag and stretched, closing his eyes. He hadn't been kidding when he told that interviewer that he could sleep anywhere. Years of sleeping in half-finished homes on unfinished floors had given him the ability to sack out and drop into sleep at a hat.

The downside was that years of doing exactly that in homes that weren't super secure had also made it possible for him to wake up quickly if something seemed off. It seemed like he was just dozing off when he heard the sound of something ... heavy? ... getting dragged in the basement. He shook off the sleepiness and dragged his boots over to go give Amelia with a hand moving whatever it was she was trying to move. No point in her putting her back out when there was help nearby.

He loped down the stairs and went looking for her. She wasn't near the main breaker panel, so he started walking further in. "Amelia?" He called out, looking for her. There wasn't any light, so he decided to go back upstairs to grab a flashlight and see if she was okay. 

Climbing the stairs, he heads towards his room when he catches sight of her standing outside the door to it, face ashen. Her head snaps towards him as his footsteps herald his presence. "Jeremy? It's not nice fucking with someone when they're working alone, dammit. I thought you said you were going to sleep!" 

"Fuck, Amelia, I was just trying to find out what the hell you were doing in the basement that was making the racket. I mean, if you need to move heavy shit, you could either leave it till morning or you could just ask for a hand." He was startled at her snarl but there was something scared under it. One of the things he really liked about her was her ability to roll with the punches. Something had her spooked.

"You were in the basement looking for me? When did you leave?" she asked, clipped and wringing the wrench in her hands. 

"Just now. Why? Amelia, is there something wrong? You gotta excuse me but you look like hell," he said, brows furrowed as he looked at the young electrician.

"No, I'm fine. It's nothing." She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. "You know, boss, I think I'm going to just head home. I'm tired and tired and electricity isn't a good combination. Before I wind up doing something stupid, I should just head home."

Jeremy could tell that something was bothering her but didn't want to pry. She seemed distraught but he didn't want to be "that guy" and assume that because she was a woman, she'd gotten spooked by something simple. Still, her gear was still downstairs and if she was shaken by whatever it was and if he was going to be a good guy, "Amelia, you want a hand packing up?" he asked diffidently. He didn't want to be pushy but he didn't want her freaking out. She was a good sub and losing them was never his idea of a good thing.

She nodded and he headed downstairs with her to put her tools together. Looking around, he notices that there are some boot prints in the corner. Wet, heavy boot prints that aren't his and looking at the size of them, sure as hell aren't hers. He doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to worry her but that means there's someone else in the house. What he wants now is to get her safely out and on her way before he picks up his phone and a pipe wrench and gets whoever it is out.

They pick up her kit and wordlessly head upstairs to her truck. They load her gear into it. He subtly checks the closed cab to ensure it's empty and there's no sign of entry there either. None. Good. He stays with her while she gets in and tosses her phone on the passenger's seat. "Drive safe," he says, as she turns the key. Only nothing happens. There's a sick grinding noise and then nothing.

Amelia hops back out, eyes rolling. "Really, truck? Fucking now? In the middle of the night when there's isn't an open tow to be had and NOW you decide to start acting up?" She pops open the hood of the truck, "Jeremy, can you grab my flashlight? It's in the glovebox." 

He goes and grabs the three D-cell Maglite. It's a good heft in his hand and there's a small protective older brother part of him that approves. This is a tool that can double in a pinch as a weapon and she's got it where she can get to it easily. Good girl. He brings it around, clicking it on. "So, what is your problem, big guy?" 

The two stand there looking at the engine, but nothing is obvious. There's oil, all the cables are connected. "Dammit, I got gas earlier tonight before I headed over here," Amelia huffs. There's nothing wrong that they can see. 

A loud thud comes from inside the house and the two look at each other then slowly back at the house. "Um...maybe I'll just grab a cab. I'll come back and get the truck in the morning," she says, low and a little anxious. He nods, handing the flashlight back to her as she turns to grab her cell phone.

"What the ever living fuck, Renner? What the hell is your fucking problem?" She's whirling on him as he had headed back to the porch. 

"What the hell?" he replies as an angry slip of electrician comes at him with a smashed phone in her hand.

"Look, I knew you were into me and that was fine. It was kinda nice being admired by the hot actor boss guy," she hissed, eyes narrowed as she thrust her hand towards him. "But this? You wanted me to stick around, you didn't have to fucking sabotage my truck and break my goddamned phone. You could have fucking asked. This is beyond fucking creepy, you asshole!"

Jeremy stands his ground, hands up, eyes blazing. "I didn't do anything to your truck or your phone. Fuck, girl. You think I need to trap women to get them into my goddamned bed? What kind of asshole prick do you take me for?" 

"Then how come the smash mark on my phone just happens to be the same shape as my damned flashlight? You had time when you grabbed my Mag to break the phone and who knows when you fucked over my truck. Jesus Christ. This is just fucking gross."

Angry, Jeremy rips his phone out of his back pocket and thrusts it at her, "Here. Fucking call a cab. My goddamn dime. I never touched your truck or your fucking phone, but fine. Get the fuck out of here if you want to leave so bad."

She snatches it from his hands and goes to dial for a cab. "How do you make this stupid fucking thing work?" She thrusts it back at him. He looks at her like she's an idiot and goes to dial, only there's no signal. He whacks the phone with the side of his hand and it goes dead. "What the fuck?" He knows it had full charge. There's no reason for it to be dead. Something fucked up is going on.

Amelia looked at him. Her face had blanched. "Renner. What the actual fuck is going on?"

"I haven't got the fucking foggiest idea. Maybe the fucking satellite is down or some kind of shit like that. Fuck, how the hell would I know?" he snarled back. Taking a deep breath through his nose, getting his shit together, he said in a more even tone, "So let's go back in the house. We'll get it plugged in and juiced up and you can call somebody to get you. Hell, fuck it - if that doesn't work, you can just take my fucking car. If it's that big a fucking deal."

Amelia nodded sharply and followed him in the house. After a moment, she touched his back. "Jeremy, look. I'm sorry. I'm tired and a little freaked out."

He turned and faced her as she apologizes. "Don't worry about it. It was a long day and I'm sure that driving all the way out here and having everything go fucking haywire hasn't made it any better. Let's just get this taken care of and you home safe."

She nods and the two head back inside. Jeremy has the flashlight still in hand, long knobby fingers wrapped around the shaft near the light itself. The grip he was taught years ago that flips it from a flashlight to a weapon quickly. There's still that noise from inside to deal with.

They get to the inside hallway where his charger is and plug in his phone, but there's no comforting bleep out of the phone that says it's charging. Nor does it turn on. He unplugs and replugs the phone, quietly cursing, as he tries to figure out what's going on. 

"Fuck it," he says after a couple minutes. He leans over to grab his jacket and fishes out his car keys. "Here," he says thrusting them at Amelia. "Take my car. We'll settle this in the morning when we can find out what the fuck is wrong with the power. And your car. And my fucking phone." 

They head back out and transfer her gear to his car and once again, she gets in. He leans on the roof at the driver's side door, "Get home. We'll deal with this in the morning."

"Uh, Jeremy, I hate to say this, but whatever killed my car? Yeah, yours isn't doing so hot either," she says as she tries to turn over the engine. He bangs his head against the door frame in frustration, "You're shitting me."

"I wish I was," she sighs. "Look. This isn't going anywhere good fast. Can I," she bites her lip and looks up at him out the window of his car, "can I stay here tonight? Since evidently, the powers that be don't want me to leave?" 

He's about to say that yeah, sure, she can, when the lights in the house start flickering. Both of them turn to face the house. Her eyes roll and he chews his lip and flips a middle finger at the house. He laughs a little and says, "Fuck it. If I'm getting tormented by a ghost or whatever the fuck is going on, I might as well be with a pretty girl."

She looks at him, a little nervous. "Right. Ghost. Forgot about that part of this gig. You think there really is one?"

"Nah. But whatever is fucked in the electrical is going to have a fine fucking time with this. And company is welcome," he replies. He's not sure himself what the hell is going on, but at least this way, there's someone else there and if nothing else, if it is someone breaking in, she can run into the street and yell for help.

They turn and head back into the house, Jeremy carefully being subtly in front of Amelia. He's isn't sure any more what the hell's going on and letting her walk first into the danger isn't something he's comfortable with doing.

He leads her back into the house, into his bedroom. "I think there's a spare bag. I mean, if you don't mind using Kris'. He's not coming here tonight and I'm pretty sure it's reasonably clean. Man's kinda fastidious." Jeremy shakes it out, setting it and a mat for under it a respectable distance from his own and gestures to her. "There. Hope that works for you," he says as he runs his hand through his hair. "Don't really have a spare bed here."

"It's fine. Thanks," Amelia replies. "Mind, uh, turning around or something? I want to get changed for bed but I don't really want to..." Her voice trails off as she gestures back out in to the rest of the house. 

He nods quickly and turns his back. He can hear her shifting as she's getting changed. Not looking. Not even peeking, dammit. Okay, so he's a red blooded male and she is pretty damned cute. Cute women with skills and great racks should not be getting undressed in his bedroom. Really. Talk about fucking temptation.

Amelia drops to the top of the sleeping bag, wrestling off her work boots. Jeans and her workshirt quickly follow, leaving her in a light cotton camisole and a pair of bikinis to sleep in. A fast peek at Jeremy to make sure he's still not looking and she unhooks her bra and pulls it out of the armholes. Sleeping in a bra sucks ass. Quickly bundling her clothes and leaving them on top of her boots, she wriggles into the sleeping bag. "Okay - coast is clear," she singsongs after she's in. 

He turns, seeing her smiling face pillowed on her arm and grabs his own pillow and tosses it at her. "Here. My mama would beat me if she saw the kind of hospitality I was offering." A lazy grin as he sits down on his own sleeping bag, pulling off his boots. He climbs into his own bag and shimmies off his jeans, tossing them at the end of the bag. "Good night."

Yawning, Amelia nods, "Night. Thanks for letting me stay."

He kills the little lamp next to his sleeping bag and the two are back in the darkness. Maybe it's the fact that he still doesn't know what's going on or the fact that he's been awake long enough now, but he can't sleep. There's noise in a house that you expect to hear - wood settling, pipes, the hum of central air - but there's *noise* coming from downstairs again. And now it's upstairs. Fuck.

Just as he's contemplating getting up and investigating, Amelia's voice, quiet in the darkness, interrupts his thoughts. "Would you think I'm a total wimp if I asked to come over there with you?" 

His laugh is a little more breathless than he wants to admit to himself, "I thought you'd never ask."

He unzips his sleeping bag and she's undoing hers and after a little comedy that eventually has them turning the light back on briefly so they can line things up, they zip them together into a double bag. Both crawl in and his arm naturally curls around her shoulders and she rests her head against his shoulder and turns in to him. 

"You probably think I'm really kinda slutty," Amelia says, voice tight with nerves, "but I've never been this scared and I kind of want to know I'm not alone. I mean," she swallows, embarrassed, "I've never bought into the whole haunted house shit but this is either a ghost story or a horror story and fuck - I'm in my underwear. From my perspective, it can go either way and I'm fucked."

Jeremy chokes on her choice of words and cracks a grin. "You know, sweetheart, there's always a way to tell. I mean, if you're fucked either way." When she lifts her head to peer at him in the dark, he licks his lips and decides if he's going to do this, he might as well give it a shot. Getting shot down isn't the worst thing that's happened today. "I'm just saying, the couple getting naughty always die first in horror movies. Get busy and find out what we're in."

Amelia hits the small lamp again, filling the room with just enough light to see by. Her expression is unreadable and he thinks maybe he's overstepped. Wouldn't be the first fucking time he's misread the signs and made an offer that wasn't accepted. 

But then she's kissing him. And fuck - if that's what a haunted house gets him, he could get behind it. After all, Amelia's really fucking cute and she's the one who started with the kissing. She rolls on top of him, softer body resting along his as she explores his mouth. She's methodical with her kisses, kind of like when she's checking wiring. Making sure it's all in order and responding the way it should.

He's definitely responding. Hands running up her back, he realises that yeah, he was right earlier. She did ditch the bra and there's nothing but camisole between his hands and her warm back. They keep riding up her back until he can tangle them in her hair and angle her head just the right way to let him taste the inside of her mouth as he kisses her. 

The light from the small lamp starts to flare, far brighter than it should be capable of. Bright enough that the two pull away from each other to shield their eyes. Just before it is too bright to stand, the light winks out, plunging them back into total blackness. 

He rolls on top of Amelia, grinning down at her, or where he suspects her face is, based on where she was moments before and that he's definitely got a great rack squashed against his chest. He reaches to touch her face and he can feel the matching grin on her face.

Her lips part as he is running his fingers over her mouth she sucks in one, before saying, tease dripping from her voice, "You know. The cute girl always dies horribly in the horror films. If I'm destined to die tonight, I think I want some petit morts first. Think you can handle that, boss man?"

Jeremy laughs, "You want me to fuck you while we're stuck in a haunted house?"

She takes his hand and places it between her legs to let him feel her dampening panties, "That's exactly what I want."

"I can get behind that," he said, cupping her with one large hand.

The dark gives them both a good excuse to touch. His hands are a perfect fit for her breasts, once he slips the cami over her head and tosses it to one side. His ass fits in her callused hands, the curve giving her something to squeeze and letting her grind his hardening dick against her center. 

Her lips taste like chocolate and coffee and cigarettes and he can't get enough of them. She parts her lips and duels his tongue with hers, tasting the smoke and rasp of his cigarettes, coffee and whiskey. 

Separated only by two pairs of underwear, both of them jump when the noise from the basement increases sharply, startling them. 

"You tell me," he says, hand in her panties, breathing a little ragged from all the adrenaline. "You tell me, do we stop and fight this or," he grinned, taking her hand and placing it over the crest of his boxers, "we can say fuck this and give the fucking ghost a show?" 

She bites her lip, eyes heavy and dark as her legs close to trap his hand inside her underwear. "I say if the fucker is a voyeur, then we give it a fucking show. Besides, I've been curious about exactly what's in here," stroking him and giving him a little squeeze, "since I started working here. You don't exactly wear the loosest pants I've ever seen on a job site, you know."

Jeremy laughs and the two of them crawl out of the sleeping bag. "You've been curious," he chuckles as he lays Amelia back down on the nylon outer layer and draws her panties down using both big hands. "I've been fucking dying. Being professional and respectful and trying to figure out if there's any fucking point in trying to ask you out on a date before the job's done and what kind of fucking creeper I'd look like." Tossing the underwear to the side, spreading her legs and crawling between them, he looks up at her in the shadowy light of the lamp. "Fuck. That's a sweet looking pussy you got there, woman."

Amelia grins, lifting herself up on her elbows, the pillows cushioning them. "I'm fond of it." She gestures with her chin, "You gonna take pictures or you gonna get busy with the show, boss man?"

Growling and smirking up at her, "Oh, I think you'll find out I am good with putting on a show, little girl." Lowering his head, tongue sticking out, Jeremy draws a long wet line up her center, pushing her open with the flat of his tongue. A lazy grin covers her face and Amelia's eyes fall to slits as she watches him. His tongue is doing some pretty fucking awesome things as he tickles her clit with it and she starts gasping and moaning softly. He grabs her hand and places it over his head. Stopping for a second, he looks up at her, resting his scruffy chin against her mound, "Noises are good. I want to make this great for you. Direction is awesome. Plus pulling my hair is kind of a turn on, so feel free." Her grin is as wicked as his in return, so he drops back down to slowly trying to take her apart with his mouth, her hands in his hair and muttered instructions through moans and shouts as he hits spots that makes her crazier.

Knobby fingers enter her, one, then two and filling her with a third as she bucks against his hand and mouth, Jeremy keeps pushing to make her come hard. She's sweet and spicy and that wonderful musk that is uniquely her own and his dick is aching. One hand reaches down and he starts jacking himself off as he pushes her harder, drawing his name, pumping and twisting to rub against that spongy spot inside her. 

Amelia's head drops back and a low sustained moan starts. She's so close to coming and yeah, the boss is fucking good at this. Really good. Her body feels like it is shaking and quivering and rocking and...wait. Fuck. Don't want to wait. But that shaking isn't just...she looks down at Jeremy and he's slowing too. Lifting his head and looking up at her, "Did you feel that?"

"You mean the part where the earth moved?" she asks, a wry laugh in her voice. "I thought that was just me." 

His smirk gets wider with pride, but he shakes his head. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. I don't think that was us." He climbs up to lie next to Amelia, hands touching her, half-caressing, half reassuring himself that she's okay and real. 

No dice. She was almost coming and there's no way he is going to really stop now. Remembering his comment about direction, she wraps her hand around the back of his head and pulls him in for a kiss. Pushing her tongue past his lips, tasting herself on him and groaning. Hand and feet pushing his boxers off as she takes over from where he left off, small callused hand wrapping around his cock, slowly pumping as she kissed him thoroughly. 

Noises start from his throat, hungry noises as she jacks him. Her nimble fingers run over the length of him, tight around the base, teasing near the tip and he grows louder. His hips are moving in time with her hand and his kisses are getting more demanding, more eating at her mouth than kisses. She's okay with that - driving him crazy enough to fuck her is kind of the point. 

Leaning in, she starts to suck and nibble at his neck and he leans to give her better access and his moans get louder. And louder. And oddly not coming from him. Her hand slows as she lifts her head, almost colliding with his as he looks around. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Jeremy says, his voice a quiet curse. "Now it's fucking making noise?" His eyes roll and he looks at Amelia in frustration.

Her eyes light up as an idea occurs to her. Almost always being the odd man out at the job site has given her a competitive streak a mile wide. "We could always see who's louder," she says with a grin. Her teeth clamp down on her lip. "Do you think you're up for trying to make me scream?"

Laughing and rolling her on her back, catching at her arms to raise them above her head and cradling himself between her thighs, "You're fucking on, girl."

She arches an eyebrow and looks down between them, "You got any fucking condoms, cowboy?"

He grins, rolling his eyes again and reaching for his pants. He digs through his wallet and comes up with a small foil packet.

"In your wallet? Are you fucking kidding me? What are you, some kind of dinosaur? Is that thing even still before it's due date?" Amelia is grinning at him, but when he flashes a smirk at her, ripping the package open with his teeth, she pushes him over on his back. "Here. Lemme."

Taking the condom out, she takes him in hand and gives him a couple quick pumps to make sure everything's ready. Then she puts the condom down, rolling it and stroking him at the same time. Jeremy bucks into her hands as she does and she laughs softly, "Just hold your horses, boss man. We gotta get you suited up for safety before you go charging in. Otherwise, wet and electrical? You might get a shock."

As soon as she's got him completely covered, Jeremy rolls her back on her back, eliciting a small shriek as he does. "Well, that's cute and all, but I want you to really scream." He parts her legs to her eager grin and slips inside her. Keeping his rhythm slow, he watches her face for reactions. See what works for her. Her grin starts to melt into a pant, brow furrowing as she groans. 

The screams from the house get louder. Like the house is trying to compete. Amelia looks up at Jeremy, "Come on, boss. You promised me screaming. Let's show this fucking house what it's up against." Her smile is lusty and she licks her lips, panting as he ups the ante, putting his back into it. Her hands ride the clenching muscles of his lower back.

"Screaming. Got it." Jeremy drags one of her legs from the splayed position it is in over his shoulder and starts to hammer away at her. Keeping time with the increasing noise around them. Thumping like boots that are stomping over their heads. Her moans starting to drown out the noises of the house. The wet squelch of their bodies slapping against each other getting louder and she's cursing his name as she digs her fingers into his biceps.

He's thinking of tax accountants and working out at the gym and anything to stave off coming inside this fucking beautiful girl before she's done. Amelia's pants and groans are getting louder and her pussy is starting to grab at him, so he's pretty sure she's close. One hand sneaks between them and he starts stroking her swollen clitoris with one rough finger and she goes off like a rocket. Screaming, head thrown back and wailing into her orgasm, her pussy gripping tight down on him so hard he can't feel the shaking of the house around them. All he can feel is the boiling need in his balls and with a groan of her name, he's following her off that cliff.

His head comes down at her neck, sucking the flesh there, salty from her sweat. "That loud enough for you?" he asks, panting into her skin.

"It'll do, boss, it'll do." The two of them lie there quietly for a moment, listening for the sounds of the house. A few minutes pass and it seems like they'll get a break and have a chance to catch some sleep in a quiet house. He pulls off the condom, knotting it and tossing it to a waste bag. She gives him a little cheer as it goes in without touching the sides. They both crawl into the sleeping bag, sighing. 

"Well, that was interesting," she says as she curls into his side, kissing the curve of his chest. He nods, wrapping an arm around her and starting to settle down. "This isn't going to be weird tomorrow, right?" she asks, propping herself up to look him in the eye. "I mean, I'm still the employee and you're still the boss and really? I'm not looking to get tied down. I mean," she says hastily, "I'm not a slut or anything, but I don't think I'm ready for anything more."

He laughs, "Sweetheart, I'm no slut either, but I'm good with sex for the sake of sex." He smacks her on the ass, making her jump a little. "And any time you got an itch you need to scratch and I'm around, you know my number." He closes his eyes and starts to relax.

The house, however, has other ideas. The thumping and dragging start up again. Knocking from the walls. Moans and whispers not comprehensible. 

Jeremy shakes his head, pulling Amelia on his chest and smiling up at her. "Any chance you're ready for round two? Seems the house wants us to do that again."


End file.
